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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608581">cold</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/djelibeybi/pseuds/djelibeybi'>djelibeybi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Mild Angst, Mostly Fluff, The Long Night, a lot of "platonic" cuddling, also possibly very ooc, book canon, everyone is stupid, i'm really selling it i know, jaime and brienne get married as friends, nobody will talk about their feelings, the most self indulgent fic ever</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,765</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608581</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/djelibeybi/pseuds/djelibeybi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is ending soon, she thought. That’s enough to make any man act strangely.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>209</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>342</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>ok so i am SO bad at endgame plot stuff but just for the purposes of this extremely dumb self indulgent fic: jaime and brienne survived LSH, brienne went on to the vale to rescue sansa, jaime returned to KL because aegon was attacking and he saved tommen and brought him north, where brienne had already brought sansa. or something along those lines. anyway they're all in winterfell and that's all that matters.</p><p>i've never written a long night fic before OR started posting something before i'd finished writing it so this should be an interesting ride. enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started with Lady Sansa not giving Jaime a room.</p><p>“She probably just didn’t think of it,” Brienne lied to him in the dining hall afterwards. Making sure the Kingslayer had a comfortable bed for the night was not high on her liege lady’s list of priorities, and she knew it. “She has so many other things to do.”</p><p>Jaime just nodded and took a swig of wine, but she could tell he didn’t believe her. For the first time, she truly felt the awkwardness of being on opposite sides, and she hated it. Jaime had been estranged from Cersei from quite some time, and had only returned to King’s Landing to retrieve Tommen, but Brienne knew that to Sansa, he would only ever be Cersei’s twin. Even as she sat with him now, she kept catching herself glancing worriedly at Sansa to see if she was watching, which made her feel guilty.</p><p>Perhaps it was that guilt that made her say, “You can sleep in my room, if you wish it.”</p><p>Jaime looked up, eyebrows raised, and she blushed furiously. “Not like <em>that</em>. I just mean— you’ve travelled so far, and it might not be safe for you to sleep in the barracks, considering how the other men feel about you—”</p><p>Jaime’s eyes softened. “That’s a kind offer, my lady, but you’re already being called Kingslayer’s whore. I would not soil your reputation any further.”</p><p>That name made her blush again and look away. “I don’t care what people call me,” she said, to her trencher. “None of that will matter in a few days, anyway.”</p><p>It was true. As much as she tried to be hopeful, she knew there was little chance of them winning this battle. Everyone knew. The nights were growing longer and darker all the time, and despair was all around them. But Jaime’s arrival had brought a little light into her dark new world, and it brought her comfort to think that at least she would be close to him when the end came.</p><p>He smiled at her, and her heart fluttered painfully. “Well, wench, if you insist. Show me your lodgings and I’ll decide if they’re up to my standards.”</p><p>So she did. They had a half-hearted argument about sleeping arrangements (neither would allow the other to sleep on the floor) and eventually ended up sharing her bed. Brienne left as much space between them as possible, but ended up lying awake for a long time, tormented by his nearness and the sound of his breathing. She finally fell asleep only to wake a few hours later with him wrapped around her, his arm draped tight around her waist and his nose pressed against her hair.</p><p>She froze, unwilling to move in case he let go, and then suddenly there were tears in her eyes.</p><p> </p><p>The next night Jaime said, “It’s cold.”</p><p>Brienne nodded. The fire was roaring, as always, but there was still a chill in her bones that seemed impossible to shake.</p><p>He looked at her. They were lying, again, on opposite sides of the bed, facing each other. Jaime’s golden hair was fanned out on the pillow like a crown.</p><p>“Can I hold you?” he asked bluntly. At her shocked expression, his lips twitched into a smile. “For warmth,” he clarified.</p><p>For a moment, she considered refusing. The night before had been as painful as it had been wonderful, and she knew she should protect herself.</p><p>But she was weak, and he was so beautiful, so she said, “If you wish it.”</p><p>“I do wish it,” said Jaime, so softly that her heart skipped a beat. She cursed herself as he pulled her against him, her back to his chest, so tight that there was no space left between them.</p><p>“Do you mind this?” he asked.</p><p>“No,” she said quietly, trying to keep her voice level. “I don’t mind.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>Something about the way he brushed his nose against the curve of her neck, and the way he kept adjusting his hold to keep her as close as possible, made her wonder if this could be about more than just warmth; but she banished that thought immediately, as she banished all such thoughts.</p><p><em>The world is ending soon</em>, she thought. <em>That’s enough to make any man act strangely</em>.</p><p> </p><p>The third night was stranger still.</p><p>Brienne had been distracted all day. The dead were close enough now that the sentries on the Wall could see them approaching in the distance, and there was a tight knot of fear in her stomach. <em>I am not ready</em>, she thought. <em>We are not ready.</em></p><p>All day they helped with the preparations, and then she and Jaime sparred in the yard. For the first time, he beat her soundly, then stepped back and looked at her, brow furrowed. “You’re somewhere else, wench,” he said.</p><p>“I’m worried,” she said. It felt weak to admit it.</p><p>He surveyed her for a moment. “Come,” he said gently, and led her back into the castle, back to her room — their room, she thought, and felt her face heat.</p><p>He kicked off his boots and reclined on the bed, patting the space beside him. She frowned at him, unsure.</p><p>“Tell me a story,” he said. “You need a distraction.”</p><p>She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, and he pulled her to sit between his legs, her back against his chest. Now her face was even hotter. “Jaime,” she protested.</p><p>“What?” He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s cold.”</p><p>It <em>was</em> cold, and it was warm in Jaime’s arms, but still. It was one thing for him to hold her at night, in the dark, when they were both asleep. But now, when the room was bright, and they were both wide awake…</p><p>He loosened his hold, seeing her uncertainty. “Forgive me if I go too far, my lady. It’s the end of the world, and I’m selfish, and I’m cold. But if you mislike it—”</p><p>“No,” she said, too quickly, wondering what he meant by <em>I’m selfish</em>. “I mean, it’s fine. I’m cold, too.”</p><p>He tightened his arms around her again, and she cursed her own weakness. <em>He wants your warmth, nothing more</em>, she reminded herself.</p><p> “Now tell me a story. Which is your favourite?”</p><p>His voice was in her ear, vibrating against her back. His lovely low smooth voice with his cut-glass accent. Combined with his warmth and his smell and the feel of his stubble brushing against her cheek, she did not feel capable of a coherent sentence, let alone a story. It felt so nice to be wrapped up in him like this, enveloped by him, as though she were the kind of small pretty girl who deserved to be held that way.</p><p>“You tell me a story,” she managed.</p><p>“I don’t know any,” he said.</p><p>“Yes you do. Everyone does.”</p><p>“Not as many as you, I’m sure. Tell me one.”</p><p>She took a deep, steadying breath. <em>Why are you doing this?</em> she wanted to ask him, but again, the weak part of her did not want it to end. Shakily, she found herself launching into the tale of Ser Galladon of Morne.</p><p>The story calmed her, as it always did, and as she reached the part with the Maiden giving Ser Galladon the enchanted sword, she felt herself begin to relax. Or perhaps it was the feeling of Jaime’s arms around her, the steady rise and fall of his chest at her back.</p><p>“Well told,” said Jaime, when she had finished. “I hadn’t heard that one before. I can see why you like it.”</p><p>“Oh?” said Brienne, turning to look at him, but he did not elaborate; just smiled at her so – fondly? – that she blushed.</p><p>She did not understand him. The Jaime she’d dragged through the Riverlands had been sharp and cruel and mocking, never missing an opportunity to make her feel foolish, even when he was defending her from the Bloody Mummers or jumping in front of the bear. The Jaime she’d found at Pennytree had been much more courteous, but distant somehow, calling her <em>my lady</em>, never touching her. This Jaime was different again – he seemed tired, and he had a little more silver in his beard, but since he’d arrived at Winterfell he’d treated her so warmly, as if they were old friends. As if he’d <em>missed </em>her.</p><p>It was Cersei he missed, most like. He had tried to persuade her to come north with him and Tommen when Aegon had attacked King’s Landing, but she’d refused, and found a ship to take her to Casterly Rock instead. He only ever spoke of her with anger and bitterness, but surely he still missed her. And it was lonely for him here, surrounded by enemies, Brienne his only ally. It was no surprise he had latched onto her like this, when there was no one else.</p><p>Besides, as he’d said, it was cold.</p><p>That night they slept in each other’s arms again. At one point Brienne woke in the night and shifted away from him, only for him to murmur her name in his sleep and pull her back against him.</p><p>She allowed herself a tiny flicker of hope.</p><p> </p><p>A sennight passed. They spent the short daylight hours in endless preparations; building barricades, helping with the battle plans, sparring in the yard and training the other soldiers. At night they retreated into Brienne’s chambers, lit the fire and tried to forget what was happening outside. Jaime grew more and more oddly affectionate - pulling her into his lap, holding her hand, stroking her hair - though they never spoke about it. Bit by bit, she became more used to it, until eventually, sometimes, she felt comfortable enough to initiate some of it herself - curling into his side when they sat in front of the fire, resting her head on his shoulder, covering his hand with hers when he rested it on her stomach at night.</p><p>It wasn’t real, Brienne knew. It wasn’t love. But it felt like it sometimes, and that was all she needed, here at the end of the world.</p><p>She was lying half in his lap on the bed one night, in the middle of a long discussion about their favourite types of shield, when Arya Stark barged into the room.</p><p>“Brienne, do you—” Lady Arya’s eyes widened. “<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>Panicking, Brienne sprang away from Jaime and scrambled to the other side of the bed. Jaime did not move. Arya looked from one to the other with a bewildered expression, as though trying to make sense of what she was seeing.</p><p>Brienne’s throat was dry. “Lady Arya, I—please believe me, there is nothing untoward—Ser Jaime had nowhere to sleep, and so I—”</p><p>Arya was still frowning. “He’s a <em>Lannister</em>, Brienne,” she said in a tone of shocked reproach.</p><p>Jaime laughed, which made Arya turn on her frown on him. He smiled at her.</p><p>“Do not misjudge Lady Brienne, my lady. She has no more love for my house than you do. I was too spoiled to sleep in the barracks, and she was kind enough to take pity on an old cripple and let me sleep here. Occasionally we huddle to keep warm. It’s nothing more than that, I promise you.”</p><p><em>Nothing more than that</em>. In spite of herself, Brienne felt her heart sink a little.</p><p>Arya gave Brienne a piercing stare. “You wouldn’t let him sleep in your bed if you weren’t close with him,” she said accusingly.</p><p>Brienne’s face heated. “I—I am close with him, my lady,” she said, refusing to look at Jaime. “I told you the story, about how your mother bade me escort him to King’s Landing, and how he saved my life. I don’t serve House Lannister, I never have, but we are…” She hesitated, unsure what word to use. How to describe her relationship with Jaime? She could scarcely understand it herself.</p><p>“Friends,” Jaime supplied. She knew he was smirking, so she kept her eyes on Arya.</p><p>“Yes,” she agreed reluctantly. “Friends.”</p><p>“Friends who… <em>cuddle</em>,” said Arya scornfully, making Brienne blush and Jaime laugh again.</p><p>“I told you, my lady,” he said easily, “we were merely trying to keep warm. Us poor southerners were not made for this cold.”</p><p>“It’s warm enough in here,” said Arya, looking at the blazing fire.</p><p>“For a northerner, perhaps,” said Jaime.</p><p>Arya looked them over again, lips drawn in a tight line of disapproval. Brienne could not help but mourn the loss of Arya’s good opinion; she had trained with her many times at her request, the only times she’d ever sparred with another girl, and it had been nice to feel as though Arya looked up to her.</p><p><em>She will tell Sansa now</em>, Brienne thought, and her stomach twisted at the thought.</p><p>“I’m sorry, my lady,” she said, though she was not quite sure what she was apologising for. Beside her, she felt Jaime tense, which made her feel even worse. When had things become so complicated?</p><p>Finally, Arya seemed to make up her mind, her frown dropping. “Do what you like,” she said with a shrug. “We only have a few days left. You should enjoy them, even if it is… with him.” She gave Jaime a disdainful glance, then moved towards the door. “I’m sorry for barging in on you, by the way. I was going to ask you to spar. I didn’t think you’d already be abed.”</p><p>Then she was gone.</p><p>Jaime leaned back against the headboard, looking amused. “It seems she’s given us her blessing.”</p><p>Brienne sighed, still somewhat shaken from the encounter despite the relief she felt. “Her blessing for what?” she said.</p><p>It was the first time either of them had come close to addressing what was between them, and she felt Jaime tense again. There was a moment’s silence, and then he put an arm around her shoulders, drawing her back to him.</p><p>“She said we should enjoy our last few days,” he said. “Is that not what we’re doing?”</p><p>It was not enough of an answer. <em>Friends who cuddle</em>. <em>Merely trying to keep warm.</em> It was true, she supposed; that was all it was. She had always known that. She’d only been pretending.</p><p>And it was all she had, all she’d ever have, so she should make the best of it, and be grateful.</p><p>She tried to remember that when they blew the candles out and she was lying in Jaime’s arms again, listening to his breathing in the dark. And yet there was a part of her – a stupid, traitorous part – that ached.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>was really not expecting the response to the last chapter, thank you so much to everyone who commented and left kudos!! &lt;3 since i've made up my mind to only do 3 chapters i had a LOT to fit into this one so it's a bit of a monster (by my standards anyway). also i rewrote the second half of it like 3 times and am frankly sick of looking at it now so if anything doesn't make sense, let me know!!</p><p>(PS: this is one of my few fics that doesn't have a hozier title, but the vibe is very much wasteland, baby.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s as if you’re married to the girl,” Tyrion said to Jaime the next day.</p><p>The battle was close. Only a day or two more, Jon Snow said. Preparations were growing frantic, and they’d had an exhausting day; Tyrion holed up with the War Council, Jaime out with the soldiers, doing last-minute checks. Brienne had been given command of the left flank, which made Jaime both proud and worried. It was her first battle, after all. <em>She’s far more likely to survive than you are</em>, he reminded himself. <em>If any of us survive. Which we won’t.</em></p><p>Because of his experience, Jon Snow had wanted to give Jaime a command, too; but selfishly, he’d refused, insisting he wanted to fight in the left flank alongside Brienne. If they were going to die, he could at least be near her when it happened. Snow had raised an eyebrow at that, clearly thinking that Jaime was not in a position to insist anything, but he’d allowed it.</p><p>Now Jaime was drinking with Tyrion in front of the fire in Tyrion’s chambers. Ordinarily at this time, he’d be with Brienne, but she was with Sansa; and anyway he felt guilty over the little time he’d spent with his brother since they’d been reunited. Still, he looked forward to returning to Brienne’s warm chambers later, as he’d looked forward to it all day. Sometimes the thought of it was the one thing that sustained him through the cold and the drudgery.</p><p> “Married?” he said to his brother. “You do love to exaggerate.”</p><p>“Not in the slightest,” said Tyrion. “You’re like a married couple of twenty years.”</p><p>In truth, Jaime had had the same thought many times himself. Sitting in front of the fire with Brienne curled up against him, or holding her in bed at night, he’d imagined that this must be what marriage felt like; only without all of the solemn duties that came with it, or the acknowledgement of their feelings.</p><p>Or the sex.</p><p>He did not know how or when exactly he’d realised he was in love with Brienne. All he knew was that since he’d arrived at Winterfell, having lost everything but her and with little time left before the world ended, he’d been greedy for her. For her time, her company, her closeness. He craved her, the warm solid weight of her in his arms, her clean soapy smell. Her soft calm voice with its lilting Stormlands accent. They’d shared beds before, in various inns and tents in the Riverlands, but he’d always been careful then to keep his distance. Now he didn’t care. He’d woken that first night with his arms around her and it had felt so unquestionably right that he’d scarcely let go of her since.</p><p>He was greedy for other things, too, but that was a line he couldn’t cross. It was a thin line, too. So many times, he’d been tempted to kiss her – her shoulder, her neck, her lips. It would have been so easy, when she was already in his arms. But kissing would lead to more, and he couldn’t risk that. Brienne was skittish enough as it was, and half the castle – half the bloody realm – had already named her Kingslayer’s whore. She would think that was all he’d wanted from her all along, and he couldn’t let it end like that, with her hurt and hating him.</p><p>What they had was enough. Having her close was enough.</p><p>Still, there were times when it was difficult. Every morning he woke up hard, and had to slip from the room to relieve himself while she still slept. Alone, he imagined what might happen if he ever did cross that line. Imagined her lying before him on the bed, naked just for him, nervous but wanting. Looking at him with those big blue eyes, biting her full lower lip. The blush trailing down from her cheeks to her neck to her breasts.</p><p>Afterwards he felt guilty. But as long as he kept those thoughts to himself, he decided, it didn’t matter. He would keep his touches chaste, and they would spend their last few days and nights like this, whatever this was. Bed-sharing comrades. Friends who cuddled.</p><p>It was enough.</p><p>Tyrion did not agree.</p><p>“You’re a fucking idiot,” he said, when Jaime explained it. “You love this woman, you’re sharing a bed with her every night, the world is ending in a day or two – and you won’t fuck her?”</p><p>Put like that, it did sound stupid.</p><p>“Brienne is a highborn lady—” Jaime began.</p><p>Tyrion snorted loudly. “You’re concerned about her reputation? The world is <em>ending</em>, Jaime.”</p><p>Jaime sighed. “You don’t know Brienne. She’s been told all her life that no man could ever possibly desire her. She’d think it was a jape, or a trick, or that I was using her somehow. I’d need time to convince her. Weeks. Months. And we don’t <em>have</em> time.”</p><p>“To convince her,” Tyrion repeated, taking a sip of wine. “And what would it take to convince her? Some kind of proof of your commitment?”</p><p>Jaime ran a hand through his hair, irritated that they were still discussing it. He had made up his mind. “I suppose.”</p><p>Tyrion put down his cup. “You should marry her.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“You should marry her,” Tyrion repeated, unfazed. “What’s a bigger commitment than that?”</p><p>Jaime glared at him. “I’m not going to marry her just to fuck her.”</p><p>“Of course not. You should marry her because you want to marry her, and because then the two of you could die as husband and wife.” Tyrion smiled, that smug little smile he always wore when he thought he’d come up with a clever idea. “Just the kind of thing your romantic little heart would love.”</p><p>Loath as he was to admit it to Tyrion, the idea did appeal to him. To finally be able to confess his love to Brienne, to swear to love her forever, from this day til the end of their days. All two of them. She wouldn’t have a maiden’s cloak, but he had a crimson one he could wrap around her. There would be no more hiding then. He could go to his grave content that she knew all he felt, and that she was his. And then, perhaps, the Stranger might take them to the same place.</p><p>If she said yes.</p><p>“I don’t know if she’d want to,” he confessed to Tyrion.</p><p>Tyrion stared at him. “Are you mad? The girl is besotted with you. The entire castle can see it. Do you think she’d be letting you sleep in her bed every night if she didn’t want you?”</p><p>It was true there were times he’d thought he could see hints of reciprocation from Brienne, like the way she blushed sometimes when he touched her or smiled at her, but that could be explained away as shyness. Then there were the other things, the bigger things – the faint purple marks on her neck from Stoneheart’s noose, the way she’d defended him to Sansa and the dragon queen when he’d first arrived at Winterfell. But those could be explained as loyalty. None of it was any indication that she’d want to marry him.</p><p>Besides, he was almost twice her age, and he was still the Kingslayer. Not exactly the man her father might have chosen for her.</p><p>“You won’t know unless you ask her,” said Tyrion matter-of-factly. “Personally, I’d love a wedding before the battle. You could do it the northern way, in the godswood. One last excuse to get piss drunk before we all die.”</p><p>“You’ll do that anyway,” Jaime pointed out. “You’re doing it now.”</p><p>“Still,” said Tyrion, taking another drink. “It’s nice to have an occasion.”</p><p> </p><p>As hard as he tried to dismiss it, the wedding idea stayed with him.</p><p>He thought of Brienne’s three failed betrothals, of that cunt Ronnet Connington. Of her doomed love for Renly. Most of all, he thought of the way her lovely eyes had shone when she recited the tale of Ser Galladon of Morne, the knight so true that the Maiden herself had lost her heart to him. She’d given him an enchanted sword as a token of her love. The parallel there had not been lost on Jaime.</p><p>Brienne had a romantic heart, that much was clear. He was sure she’d once dreamed of her own wedding, whether she would admit it or not.</p><p><em>Yes,</em> said a little mocking voice in his head that sounded very much like Cersei. <em>A wedding to a man her own age, someone good and whole who never killed a king or fucked his sister or pushed a child from a tower window</em>.</p><p>And even if she did want him back – how to convince her that he meant it, that he wasn’t asking her to marry him out of pity, or as a jape?</p><p>The whole idea was beginning to sound more and more absurd.</p><p>And yet, as he lay curled around Brienne in bed that night, he could not keep himself from thinking, <em>We could have more than this. Only for two days, but we could have it. I could die as your husband, and you as my wife</em>.</p><p>Brienne as his wife. The thought made his chest ache with a sudden longing, a sweet pain. He stared at her soft pale hair where it spilled across the pillow in front of him.</p><p>Suddenly he was seized with a mad urge to shake her awake and ask her.</p><p>Instead he let her go, rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.</p><p> </p><p>The following evening after dinner (some kind of unidentifiable grey slop – the food at Winterfell was growing worse and worse), Jaime, Brienne and young Podrick Payne went for an aimless walk around the castle and eventually found an unoccupied fireside to sit around. Jaime had a wineskin with him, and there were some cups on a table in the corner, so he poured some for himself and Brienne before he sat down. Brienne gave him a shy smile as she took the cup from him.</p><p>Almost without realising it, Jaime found himself dragging his chair closer to hers. It was a strange thing, this constant pull he felt towards her, as though she still held the rope she had used to drag him around the Riverlands so long ago. A little pathetic, too; and yet he draped his arm around the back of her chair anyway. There was nobody else here but the boy, and he would not pass judgement.</p><p>No sooner had that thought entered his head than Hyle Hunt walked into the room.</p><p>Brienne stiffened, but Jaime did not move his arm. “Good evening, Ser Hyle,” he said courteously.</p><p>Hunt narrowed his eyes at them. “You two look very comfortable there,” he said.</p><p>“We are,” said Jaime, before Brienne could reply. Ser Hyle had not yet given up on his attempts to persuade Brienne to marry him, and his presence tended to bring out the most juvenile and possessive parts of Jaime.</p><p>“May I join you?” asked Hyle. “Not that I’m craving your company, Kingslayer, but every other fireside is occupied and I’m freezing.”</p><p>“I’m afraid not,” said Jaime.</p><p>Brienne glared at him. “Of course, Ser Hyle,” she said graciously. “Sit.”</p><p>Hyle gave her a nod of thanks, then dragged a chair over and positioned it on Brienne’s other side. With great reluctance, Jaime poured some wine for him too. They sat for a moment in silence, Hyle warming his feet.</p><p>“You know,” Hyle said eventually, looking at Brienne, “if we come out of this alive, I might swear myself to the Starks for a time.”</p><p>Brienne blinked. “The Starks? Why? You hate it here.”</p><p>Hyle shrugged. “If I do well in the battle, they’d have no reason not to accept me, and then I could save up some coin. Besides, when winter ends it won’t be so bad.”</p><p>Jaime could see what he was getting at. <em>The fool still thinks he has a chance at marrying her</em>. “What makes you think Lady Brienne will still be here when the battle is over?” he asked, more aggressively than he’d intended. “Mayhaps she’ll return to Tarth.”</p><p>Hyle smiled at Jaime. “Mayhaps I’ll join her there.”</p><p>Flushing, Brienne opened her mouth to intervene, only to be interrupted by the entrance of Tyrion and, oddly enough, both Stark girls.</p><p>The girls looked wary when they saw Jaime, but Tyrion said brightly, “Brother! May we join you?”</p><p>“Of course,” said Jaime reluctantly, rising to find chairs for Sansa and Arya. Inwardly, he sighed. Hyle was bad enough; he was in no mood for an awkward conversation with his brother and the Starks. He thought longingly of Brienne’s chambers and wished himself there, with the fire blazing and Brienne in his arms. He’d been hoping to persuade her to tell him another story, or perhaps even sing a little. He’d overheard her earlier as she brushed down her horse, and she had a surprisingly pretty voice, clear and sweet.</p><p>He pushed those thoughts away and smiled at the Stark sisters as they took their seats. They did not smile back.</p><p>“I see you have wine,” said Tyrion.</p><p>“None left, I’m afraid.”</p><p>“Not to worry. I have my own.” Tyrion produced another wineskin and poured cups for himself and Sansa; Arya declined with a shake of her head. Jaime wondered idly what they’d been talking about.</p><p>“We were speaking of weddings,” Hyle said provocatively.</p><p>To Jaime’s dismay, Tyrion’s eyes lit up. “Ah!” he said, looking directly at Jaime. “Has it happened yet?”</p><p>Hyle frowned. “Has what happened?”</p><p>Jaime gave his brother a warning look, but Tyrion did not take the hint. “My brother and I were speaking just last night of how nice it would be to have a wedding here just before the battle,” he said innocently. “To raise spirits.”</p><p>Sansa Stark frowned. “This is hardly a time for a wedding,” she said. “We barely have enough food to eat as it is.”</p><p><em>Her father’s daughter, I see</em>, thought Jaime.</p><p>“Oh, not a lavish one by any means,” Tyrion agreed. “No feasting. Just a small ceremony, some music, mayhaps some wine… Some merriment to boost the soldiers before they go into battle. To remind them what life is.” He waved his cup, warming to his theme. “Why it’s worth fighting for.”</p><p>Sansa considered this. “I suppose we could do something like that,” she said doubtfully. “But I don’t see why it has to be a wedding. I don’t think there’s anyone here who wants to get married.”</p><p>“Who doesn’t like a wedding?” said Tyrion. “Everyone likes to be reminded of love. Granted, ours wasn’t the happiest occasion, my lady. Many aren’t. But when it’s between two people who truly <em>want</em> to be together…”</p><p>He trailed off, expression clouding. Knowing what he was thinking about, Jaime looked away.</p><p>Beside him, Brienne looked confused. Arya was looking from Jaime to Brienne, brow furrowed, and Sansa was gazing thoughtfully into space. And Hyle—</p><p>Hyle was leaning forward. Looking at Brienne. About to speak.</p><p>Jaime turned in his chair so fast his head spun. He had drunk more wine than he’d realised. Before he could speak, however — and he had to thank the Seven for that, because he had no idea what he might have said — Arya Stark looked at Brienne and Jaime and said, “<em>You</em> two should get married.”</p><p>Brienne choked on her wine and began to cough. Jaime stared at Arya, wondering if she was joking, but her face was unreadable. Sansa was frowning at her too, clearly wondering the same thing.</p><p>Jaime cleared his throat. “And why is that, my lady?”</p><p>Arya shrugged. “You act as though you’re married already. You’re always together… and you <em>cuddle</em>… and you sleep in the same bed.”</p><p>Hyle whipped around, indignant. “You do <em>what</em>?”</p><p>Poor Brienne was crimson. Jaime wanted to reach out and touch her cheek. <em>That’s Lannister crimson</em>, he wanted to tell her<em>, that’s a sign</em>.</p><p><em>I love you</em>, he wanted to tell her.</p><p>Instead he said, in as light a voice as he could manage, “She’s not wrong, wench.”</p><p>He looked at Sansa, expecting her to be shocked at the revelation that her sworn shield had been sharing a bed with the Kingslayer, but Sansa was looking at Brienne, an almost wistful look in her eyes. <em>The girl is a romantic</em>, he thought; Tyrion had told him that. <em>Not unlike Brienne. </em></p><p>“You know, I would not prevent you from marrying, Brienne,” Sansa said slowly. “If you wished it. We have so little time left; we should be using it well.”</p><p>Jaime stared at her. “You would have your sworn shield marry a Lannister? Marry <em>me</em>?”</p><p>Sansa looked at him. “Well, you would not be my first choice,” she said drily, and Jaime surprised himself with a laugh. <em>Mayhaps the girl is not quite so humourless as her father.</em> “However… Lady Brienne has told me of your time together. How you saved her from the outlaws, and from the bear. And if you had not given her that sword and sent her to find me, I would not be here.” She gave a delicate shrug. “Besides, everyone can see how much you care for each other. I think you would make a good match.”</p><p>Arya looked at Brienne. “He spars with you,” she said, unexpectedly. “You deserve a husband who will spar with you. Most men are cowards. They don’t want to be beaten by a woman.”</p><p>Pod was nodding eagerly. “You <em>should</em> marry him,” he said. “Ser. My lady.”</p><p>Hyle shook his head in disbelief, but nobody was looking at him.</p><p>Jaime could not help but feel a warmth in his chest at all of this unexpected approval. Though the opinions of the Starks meant little to him, he knew that they meant everything to Brienne. He looked at her to see how she was reacting.</p><p>Her eyes were wide, her cheeks still flushed. She looked from Sansa to Arya to Pod, bewildered, as though expecting them to reveal the joke at any moment. Then, finally, she shook her head.</p><p>“You jape, all of you,” she said in an unsteady voice. There was hurt in her big blue eyes. “Lady Sansa is right, this is no time for a wedding, and even if it was…” She looked down, wrapping her arms around herself. “Ser Jaime has no wish… he does not want…  This is absurd.”</p><p>Jaime felt a pang. He’d known this would hurt her; of course it would. Silently cursing Tyrion, he reached out to touch her arm.</p><p>“I would,” he said quietly. “I would marry you.”</p><p>She looked up and met his eyes, and then the world shrank to just the two of them, looking at each other. His heart beat hard in his chest.</p><p>“You wouldn’t,” she said in a small voice. It was a statement, not a question.</p><p>He held her gaze. “I would.” He took her hand, gripping it tightly, and kissed the back of it. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. If truth be told, I’ve been thinking about it for days. If we could marry anyone we wanted, who else would I marry, Brienne? Who else would <em>you</em> marry?”</p><p>She did not answer. He hoped she was not thinking of his sister, or Gods forbid, Hyle Hunt.</p><p>He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. “You’ve seen me half-dead, filthy, covered in my own shit and vomit, and feverish in a bathtub. You know all of my secrets and all of my worst sins. You’ve washed me, dressed me, fed me and bandaged me. You know me better than my own twin knows me. Better than I know myself. And still you would fight beside me. What is that, wench, if not marriage?”</p><p>A tiny smile appeared her on her face, like a glimpse of the sun breaking through clouds. “Are you saying we are married already?”</p><p>He smiled back. “I’m saying we should say the words, and make it true.”</p><p>There was a pause. He watched her eyes, as he had in that boat in the Riverlands so long ago, when he’d first thought them pretty. Now he saw fear in them, and uncertainty, and just the slightest hint of hope.</p><p>“Is this truly what you want, Jaime?” she asked, very quietly. “I know you would not lie to me.”</p><p>He kissed her hand again. “This is the truest thing I can tell you. You are more precious to me than anyone I’ve ever met, Brienne of Tarth. If we die tomorrow, it would please me to die as your husband.”</p><p>“And if we live?” Her voice was almost a whisper.</p><p>“And if we live, then all the better.”</p><p>Her smile returned, small and hesitant but as beautiful as the dawn.</p><p>“Then I would,” she said softly. “I would marry you.”</p><p>His heart soared.</p><p>He was about to lean in and kiss her when the sound of clapping startled him. They looked around, and he remembered they had an audience. All of them, surprisingly, were beaming – even Hyle had a grudging smile on his face. Arya whooped.</p><p>“To the godswood!” she shouted, suddenly looking like the thirteen-year-old she was.</p><p> </p><p>Sansa married them.</p><p>"Who comes before the god?” she asked in an impressively imperious voice.</p><p> They stood in front of the heart tree in the godswood, ankle-deep in snow. They had picked up a few extra spectators on the way – nobody Jaime knew, just some soldiers in need of merriment, as Tyrion had predicted. He had considered waking Tommen, but it was past midnight; too late to drag the boy from his warm bed. Jaime thought he might be happy, though. The boy did love Brienne.</p><p>It was so cold it hurt to breathe, and yet the night was strangely beautiful; the sky was black velvet, and the snow glittered in the light of a perfect full moon. All was still and silent; but for them, not a creature seemed to move for miles around.</p><p>Since Brienne’s father was absent, and nobody else knew the words, Arya took Lord Selwyn’s part. “Brienne of House Tarth comes here to be wed,” she said. “A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble, she comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”</p><p>"I," said Jaime, smiling at Brienne, "Jaime of House Lannister claim her. Who gives her?"</p><p>"Arya,” said Arya, biting back a giggle, “of House Stark, to whom she has sworn her sword.”</p><p> Sansa turned to Brienne. "Lady Brienne, will you take this man?"</p><p>Brienne looked at Sansa, then met Jaime’s eyes. For the first time, her hesitancy seemed to leave her for true, and she gave him a wide, genuine, joyful smile. He did not think he had ever seen her smile like that.</p><p> “I take this man,” she said.</p><p>Jaime unfastened his fur-lined crimson cloak, then unfastened her wolf pelt and replaced it with his own cloak. Brienne clutched it about her, eyes swimming. Sansa went to take the wolf pelt, as a septon would usually do with a maiden’s cloak, but Brienne took it back and wrapped it around Jaime instead, fastening it carefully at his throat.</p><p>“It’s cold,” she said simply.</p><p>For a moment Jaime’s love overwhelmed him, and all he could do was stare at her. She was smiling at him, so sweetly, her blue eyes shining and her pale hair like moonglow about her shoulders. His throat burned; was he crying? <em>Gods, I should have married you long ago.</em></p><p>He leaned in to kiss her, audience be damned.</p><p>But before his lips could meet hers, the horn blew. One, two, three blasts.</p><p>The Others had arrived.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ok this is random but i know i mentioned their voices/accents a few times in this and it's honestly one of my favourite things to think about so let me know your opinions!! i feel like each kingdom must have their own accent, they can't all be more or less the same like on the show. personally i imagine the lannisters having a v posh cut-glass kinda accent while the stormlands have a more musical one. also for some reason i imagine bri having a very calming voice that's really nice to listen to, hence why jaime keeps asking her to tell him stories lol. (jaime has a sexy voice because of course he does.)</p><p>thoughts on the chapter are also welcome, lol. thanks for reading! part 3 coming soon i hope &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>because i'm lazy, i've gone with the show version of the long night where it literally is just one night. and also i didn't write any of it because again, i'm lazy and i don't know how to write battles. sorry!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Brienne woke two days later in a cot in Winterfell’s Great Hall, with sun streaming in through the windows.</p>
<p>It took her a long time to open her eyes. They felt heavy – everything felt heavy, and sore, so sore. She tried to move her left arm, and hissed in pain.</p>
<p>“It’s broken, m’lady,” said a voice from above her, and Brienne looked up to see Gilly.</p>
<p>“I’m alive,” she said, stupidly. Her throat felt raw.</p>
<p>Gilly smiled. “Yes. You’re alive.”</p>
<p>Slowly, memories began to seep back. Standing with Jaime at the front line. The awe she’d felt when their blades burst, simultaneously, into blue flame, like something from a tale. The comfort it had given her to know that they had twin swords, burning swords, and that although they’d surely die, at least they’d die together. The way he’d looked with the pale blue light of the sword on his face, not a trace of fear in his eyes, and the love that had threatened to overwhelm her.</p>
<p>After that, a blur of battle-frenzy and blood. The wights, their terrible inhuman faces, their cold blue eyes. Rushing and rushing at her, never stopping, another appearing every time she cut one down. Hacking and slashing, over and over, no time to pause, no time to breathe. Watching them shatter like ice beneath her blade.</p>
<p>And Jaime, always Jaime, never leaving her side. Jaime hauling her out of the way when one of them came at her from behind; Jaime hacking his way through to her when she was surrounded. The little island of light from their blades, pushing the darkness back.</p>
<p>Jaime.</p>
<p>A sudden terror gripped her heart, so tight she could scarcely breathe. “Jaime,” she managed. “Where is Jaime?”</p>
<p>Gilly stepped to the side, and inclined her head in the direction of the next cot. He was asleep, or perhaps unconscious, bruises on his face and dirt in his golden hair, but it was him. Brienne sagged with relief, a lump rising in her throat.</p>
<p>“Is he well?” she asked Gilly.</p>
<p>Gilly nodded. “He has a nasty wound in his side, but it will heal. He was lucky.”</p>
<p>“What of Podrick, Podrick Payne? Do you know where he is?”</p>
<p>“Podrick is well, too, my lady. He was bruised, nothing more. He is helping with the wounded now. He will be delighted to hear you are awake.”</p>
<p>Another wave of relief hit Brienne like a fist, and she sank back against her pillow. Won, they had won. She was alive, and Pod and Jaime too. She had not expected this. Nobody had.</p>
<p>“What happened?” she asked. “How did we win?”</p>
<p>“It was Lady Arya,” said Gilly, with a small, bemused smile, as though she did not quite believe it herself. “She killed the Night King. Don’t know how she did it, but she did. As soon as he was slain, all the Others died with him, and the sun came up again. You collapsed when you broke your arm, but Ser Jaime carried you somewhere safe and kept watch over you until it was all over.”</p>
<p>Brienne did vaguely remember something like that; the Others swarming her and pinning her down, some cold heavy weight falling on her arm, the sharp pain. And then Jaime with his blazing sword, like a knight from the songs. Cutting them down, lifting her up, and then nothing.</p>
<p>“He shouldn’t have done that,” she said thickly, the lump in her throat growing. “He put himself at risk.”</p>
<p>Gilly smiled. “Well, he is your husband.”</p>
<p>
  <em>My husband.</em>
</p>
<p>She had almost forgotten. She looked at Jaime again, saw the dark grey wolf pelt still around his shoulders, dirty now and matted with blood. <em>If we die tomorrow, it would please me to die as your husband.</em></p>
<p>But he had not died, and neither had she. They were still alive.</p>
<p>Still married.</p>
<p>She felt a twinge of fear. <em>If we live, then all the better,</em> Jaime had said. But neither of them had truly thought that they would. Neither had prepared for it.</p>
<p>Gilly looked at Jaime too. “Would you like me to wake him?” she asked.</p>
<p>“No,” Brienne said, so quickly that Gilly looked surprised. She took a steadying breath. “I… I feel well enough to go and help, Gilly. Thank you for looking after me.”</p>
<p>She swung a leg out of bed. Even that was painful. When she stood, she swayed so violently that Gilly had to reach out and steady her.</p>
<p>“Not yet, m’lady,” Gilly said with a sternness Brienne had never heard from her before. “Go to your chambers and rest there if you like, but you’re not fit for work today.”</p>
<p>Brienne could not argue with that. Slowly, painfully, she made her way towards her chambers. Away from the Great Hall.</p>
<p>Away from Jaime.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next few days were too consumed with work to think much about anything else. They burned the dead, mourned them, tended to the wounded, and cleared the destruction. Brienne avoided Jaime as much as she could during the day, dreading the inevitable conversation. He still slept in her bed, but every night they fell into it too exhausted to speak.</p>
<p>When all of the work was finally done, there was a feast.</p>
<p>Brienne sat at the high table, beside Sansa and Arya. It had not been unusual for her to sit there in the past, but that was before Jaime had arrived. She tried hard not to look for him, but it was impossible to miss his golden head in the dull crowd. He was at their usual table with Tyrion, Tommen and Pod, and he was looking directly at her. Even at this distance, she could see the hurt on his face.</p>
<p>She looked away.</p>
<p>Sansa noticed, too. “Why aren’t you sitting with your husband?”</p>
<p>Brienne tried not to flinch at the word husband. “I am your sworn shield, my lady,” she said as mildly as she could. “You gave me the honour of a seat at your table, and I would not spurn it.”</p>
<p>Arya snorted. “You’ve been spurning it for weeks. What’s changed?”</p>
<p>“Don’t snort,” Sansa chided her.</p>
<p>Arya stuck out her tongue at her sister. “I’m the Bringer of the Dawn and the Hero of the Long Night, I’ll do what I want. Did you quarrel with the Kingslayer, Brienne?”</p>
<p>Brienne pushed her food around her trencher with her fork. “No, my lady, we did not quarrel.”</p>
<p>“Then what? Don’t you want to sit with him?” Arya squinted at her. “Do you regret marrying him?”</p>
<p>“Leave Lady Brienne in peace, Arya,” said Sansa.</p>
<p>“You want to know, too. I know you do.”</p>
<p>Brienne sighed. “I don’t regret marrying him, my lady,” she said. “It’s only that…”</p>
<p>She cut herself off. She did not wish to discuss Jaime with the Stark girls.</p>
<p>But Arya would not let it go. “It’s only that <em>what</em>? Did he do something?”</p>
<p>Brienne shook her head. “He did nothing. It’s only that…” She looked away. “Well, mayhaps <em>he</em> regrets it.”</p>
<p>Saying it aloud make her feel pathetic. Cheeks aflame, she bent over her trencher, hoping they could not see how miserable she felt.</p>
<p>“Why would he regret marrying you?” There was a frown in Sansa’s voice. “He was the one who asked you.”</p>
<p>“When he thought we only had days to live.”</p>
<p>“So what? Why would he change his mind now?”</p>
<p>Brienne did not want to answer. She kept her eyes on her food.</p>
<p>There was a moment’s silence, then Sansa spoke again, her tone gentling. “Lady Brienne, you know I’ve never liked Ser Jaime, and I doubt I ever will. But in the godswood, when you were saying your vows… well, I remember thinking that if I ever marry, I hope my husband looks at me the way he was looking at you.”</p>
<p>Slowly, Brienne looked up. Sansa was smiling at her, a wistful look in her eye, and Arya was nodding. “When you put your cloak on him,” she agreed. “He looked like he was going to <em>cry</em>.”</p>
<p>Despite herself, Brienne felt her hopes rise just a little.</p>
<p>Sansa gave her a gentle push. “Go and sit with him.”</p>
<p>Brienne hesitated, stomach twisting with sudden nerves. But the Stark girls were looking at her expectantly, waiting, and she knew she had little choice, so finally she rose and began to make her way towards Jaime’s table.</p>
<p>Her heart beat faster as she approached, and she chided herself. <em>It’s only Jaime. You’ve sat with him half a hundred times</em>. A few feet from the table, she saw that Tommen and Pod had disappeared, and Jaime and Tyrion were deep in conversation, speaking in low, serious voices.</p>
<p>“… back to the Rock,” she heard Jaime say. “I’ll leave Brienne behind.”</p>
<p>Tyrion was nodding. “She probably thinks you still want her.”</p>
<p>Jaime grimaced. “Not any more, I assure you,” he said. “The sooner that’s over with, the better.”</p>
<p>Brienne froze.</p>
<p>She was standing awkwardly between two of the long tables, a few paces away from Jaime and Tyrion, in the way of all the serving girls and drunken revellers trying to get past. Jaime and Tyrion were still talking, but she could no longer hear them; there was a strange ringing in her ears. It was warm in the hall, but she felt suddenly very cold, as though she’d been doused with ice water.</p>
<p>She made a clumsy turn, almost knocking over a serving girl’s pitcher with her elbow, though she barely noticed.</p>
<p><em>Stupid girl,</em> said Septa Roelle’s voice in her head. <em>Stupid, stupid, stupid girl</em>.</p>
<p>She fled.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She did not allow herself to cry until she was back in her chamber, with the door barred. Then she sank to the floor, resting her forehead on her knees, and sobbed.</p>
<p>She had not cried like this since Renly, and even then she did not recall feeling this kind of pain. She felt torn open, as though someone had reached inside her chest and scooped something out, leaving an empty hollow in its place. <em>Stupid</em>. How many times had Septa Roelle told her that no man would marry her for love? She had known that – she had <em>known.</em> And yet—</p>
<p>She had never even believed that Jaime loved her, not really. He had never said the words, never even kissed her. It had felt more like a marriage between friends, a way to feel less alone at the end of the world. But the world hadn’t ended, so of course there was no reason for them to be married any more.</p>
<p>He could have Cersei now, Cersei and the Rock. Of course that was what he’d want now. What had she expected – that he’d stay at Winterfell with her forever?</p>
<p>No, she hadn’t expected that. She’d expected them to die, and so had he.</p>
<p>When she had no tears left, she crawled beneath the furs, trying to ignore the way his smell lingered on them, and curled into a ball. It felt strange to lie there without Jaime beside her; it was alarming how quickly she’d grown used to it. <em>Stupid. </em>He would find somewhere else to sleep; he would be glad of it, surely<em>. The sooner that’s over with, the better.</em> She felt her eyes burn again, and she squeezed them shut. If that was how he felt, why hadn’t he said it? Had he merely kept up the pretence out of pity?</p>
<p>A knock at the door startled her. Jaime’s knock. Her stomach did a sickly swoop.</p>
<p>When she did not answer, Jaime said, “Brienne? Surely you’re not asleep already.”</p>
<p>She tried to force some strength into her voice, but it still wavered a little. “Find somewhere else to sleep, ser.”</p>
<p>There was a pause. Then Jaime said, “Are you well, Brienne?”</p>
<p> “Perfectly well, ser,” Brienne answered, but the crack in her voice betrayed her.</p>
<p>“Open the door,” said Jaime. His voice was gentle but commanding.</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“<em>Brienne</em>. You’ve been avoiding me long enough. We must have words.”</p>
<p>She took a deep breath. They would have to do this eventually, she supposed. As well to do it now, and get it over with.</p>
<p>She opened the door.</p>
<p>Jaime’s brow creased with concern as soon as he saw her face. “Sweetling,” he said, reaching for her; she backed away. “What’s the matter?”</p>
<p>The feigned worry on his face made her suddenly furious. “Don’t you dare call me sweetling,” she snapped, trembling. “I heard what you said to Tyrion.”</p>
<p>Jaime looked mystified. “What in the seven hells are you referring to? What did I say?”</p>
<p>“You said you would go back to Casterly Rock, and leave me behind.” Despite herself, fresh tears filled her eyes. “You said the sooner this was over with, the better. And I don’t blame you, Jaime, but you didn’t have to pretend—”</p>
<p>Jaime’s face cleared. “Brienne,” he said gently. “That was Cersei. I was speaking of Cersei.”</p>
<p>She stared at him, uncomprehending. “But you said…”</p>
<p>He stepped towards her. “I am going back to Casterly Rock, yes. To visit my sister in prison. Daenerys wanted her executed, but somehow Tyrion got her to agree to let Cersei stay at the Rock on the condition that she doesn’t leave. Daenerys has given the Rock to Tyrion, so Cersei will be under his watch at all times. It’s the best she could have hoped for – better than she deserves, if I’m honest.” He shrugged. “Of course, this all depends on Daenerys winning King’s Landing back from the Blackfyre pretender, but with three dragons and the forces of the north, I’ll be very surprised if she doesn’t. Anyway, the reason I said I would leave you behind was because I don’t much like the thought of Cersei slipping poison into your soup, and I’d prefer a living Brienne to come back to. That’s all.”</p>
<p>He spoke so matter-of-factly that it was hard to doubt him. Slowly, Brienne’s anger drained away, leaving her feeling vulnerable and uncertain. “But where will you go then?” she asked. “Won’t you stay at the Rock, too?”</p>
<p>He stared at her as though he could not understand her. “I will go where you go. We are <em>married</em>, Brienne.”</p>
<p>She shook her head, throat tightening. “Jaime, you don’t have to do this for my sake. We can end this farce now. Neither of us ever expected to survive that battle, and—”</p>
<p>“Farce?” Now Jaime was angry. He stepped towards her, fire in his eyes. “<em>Farce</em>?”</p>
<p>“Yes, a farce. We are playing at marriage. Mayhaps you are content to be married to me as a friend, but I can’t do it, Jaime.” Suddenly there were tears in her eyes again. “I can’t bear it. I know you don’t want to hurt me, but I would rather have nothing than something that’s not real.”</p>
<p>He looked at her, incredulous. “What would possibly make you think this isn’t real?”</p>
<p>She frowned at him. Was he japing? “Jaime, it was kind of you to marry me, and I am grateful. The thought of it… it kept me warm all through the battle. And if we had died, I would have died happily.” She drew a breath. “But we didn’t. And as I said, I don’t blame you for it, but I – but I <em>know</em> you don’t love me.” She looked away from him, willing her voice not to break. How painful it felt, to finally voice these things she had kept hidden for so long. “It would be unfair on both of us to continue with this any longer.”</p>
<p>Jaime’s face changed, his anger fading. He closed his eyes for a moment, then met her gaze again. In a much softer voice, he said, “What makes you think I don’t love you?”</p>
<p>Her eyes stung. Why was he still pretending? “Jaime, you haven’t even kissed me.”</p>
<p>His lips twitched upwards. “Then I should rectify that immediately,” he said, and he did.</p>
<p>Her last thought before all reason fled her mind was that this did not feel like a friendly kiss, a kiss for warmth, a kiss between two comrades who sometimes shared a bed. This was a real kiss. A lover’s kiss. He had both hands on her face, the real one and the gold one, holding it tightly. His real hand travelled over her cheek, tangled in her hair, caressed her neck and the skin behind her ear; as though he were greedy for the feel of her skin, as though he could not touch her enough. His lips moved against hers, soft yet urgent, until she found the courage to kiss him back, and at the first touch of his tongue, she sighed and sank against him.</p>
<p>When it ended, too soon, Jaime kissed her forehead, her nose, her tear-stained cheeks, then drew back just enough to look into her eyes. “I owe you an apology,” he said quietly. “It took me far too long to do that.”</p>
<p>Dizzy from the kiss, she gave a shaky laugh. “Yes,” she agreed.</p>
<p>He pressed his forehead against hers. “And I do love you. Gods, I do. I’m a fool for not telling you earlier, but I suppose I thought it must have been as clear to you as it was to me. I married you because I love you, Brienne. There was no other reason.”</p>
<p>She looked into his eyes, and saw the sincerity there. Jaime had never lied to her. <em>He means it.</em></p>
<p>Her heart lifted.</p>
<p>“All of those times you held me at night,” she said, blushing. “When you said it was just to keep warm…”</p>
<p>“Warm?” Jaime laughed and pulled her closer still, his hand running up and down her back. “Yes, it was warm. But the fire was warm too, and the furs. I wanted you in my arms, wench, that was all. I was afraid that if I told you how I felt before the battle, I might lose you, and then I’d have to die without you beside me.” He kissed her forehead again. “I told you I was selfish.”</p>
<p>Brienne exhaled, finally letting herself feel the full extent of her joy, her relief. She felt light, so light. She leaned forward, burying her face in Jaime’s shoulder, and wrapped her arms around him, smiling into the velvet of his doublet when he hugged her back, tight. They had been this close a hundred times over the past few weeks, but this felt better somehow, a thousand times better.</p>
<p>She lifted her head. “So we are still married?” she asked shyly.</p>
<p>“Yes, sweetling.” Jaime’s eyes were soft. “And I’m very glad of it. In fact, I think this might be the best idea I’ve ever had. Do you agree?”</p>
<p>She nodded. “I dreamed about marrying you for a long time,” she admitted. “I suppose I just never believed it could be real.”</p>
<p>“Neither did I, but here we are.” Jaime rubbed circles on her waist with his thumb. “Do you think Lord Selwyn will approve of me?”</p>
<p>She had to laugh at the thought of her father’s reaction when he learned she had wed the Kingslayer. No, she was certain, Lord Selwyn would not approve; but he had wanted her married for so long that he could hardly complain about her choice of husband now. “We can worry about that later.”</p>
<p>“Indeed.” Jaime’s eyes glinted. “We have far more pressing matters to attend to.”</p>
<p>“What matters?”</p>
<p>Jaime slipped his thumb beneath her tunic to stroke the bare skin of her hip, and the slight touch sent a shock through her entire body. “It occurs to me,” he said, voice dropping low, “that we have yet to consummate our marriage.”</p>
<p>Brienne’s face burned. “Oh.”</p>
<p> “Oh,” he repeated, teasingly. He leaned in, slowly, deliberately, and kissed the skin just below her ear, turning it to gooseflesh. She shivered.</p>
<p>“Shall we have our wedding night?” he murmured against her neck.</p>
<p>Brienne felt a familiar twist of nerves in her stomach, and took a steadying breath. <em>This is real,</em> she reminded herself.</p>
<p>She drew back enough to meet Jaime’s eyes, and smiled. “Please,” she whispered. “Husband.”</p>
<p>His answering smile was bright enough to blind her. “My lady wife,” he said, and led her back to their bed.</p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! &lt;3 &lt;3</p>
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